“It wasn’t nothing, Harper. He shouldn’t be raising his hand to you or making you cry like this. What would have happened if we didn’t get involved?”
She lets out a breath and pulls her open jacket tighter around her. “I’m okay, really. He didn’t mean it.” She shrugs, giving us a tight-lipped smile, and I can tell she’s feeling uncomfortable and embarrassed.
“Would you like a ride home?” I ask her, gently.
“You can jump in with me,” Sarah tells her. “I live on the same side of town as you anyways.”
“Sure. Jep was supposed to be my ride,” she says, sadly. “I would walk any other day, but you know, with the killer I don’t really want to. And their profile said he likes blondes so...” she says, pulling at her blonde locks.
“Oh gosh.” I gasp. “Please do not walk,” I tell her with wide eyes, and we all nod.
“Wait, you don’t live with Jep, do you?” Sarah asks. “Because if you do, you can stay with me tonight.”
Harper shakes her head and finally gives us a real genuine smile. “No. I still live with my grandpa.”
We all say our goodbyes and part into different vehicles. Harper with Sarah and me with Wren.
“Do you believe her?” Wren asks me in the quiet cab of her truck.
I sigh, shaking my head. “No. I was her once,” I whisper, looking out the window.
Wren places a hand on my thigh, giving it a squeeze, and I smile her way, thankful for her comfort and understanding.
“I have a feeling Jep is always in a bad mood,” I say, and Wren nods.
“I agree. I didn’t want to say anything, but that night after the bar, West mentioned he noticed bruising on Harper’s collarbone.”
I watch out the window as we drive through the neighbourhoods and think about what I’ve noticed as well. “I’ve noticed bruises and scratches before too. I just never knew.”
“She’s always so bright and happy, it’s hard to believe what she’s hiding,” Wren agrees, pulling into my yard.
“She really is a ray of sunshine, isn’t she?” I state.
As I step out of Wren’s truck, my eyes catch on something shining in the gravel. I bend down and pick up a small ring, twirling it in my fingers. I’ve never seen it before, but I shove it into my pocket in case it belongs to Sarah.
After a busy week, it’s finally Friday night. Today we closed down the shop an hour early since everyone is out here at the rodeo. As we enter the grounds, I take in the lively atmosphere and let a smile stretch across my face. I love the rodeo. The crowd is buzzing and wild, and people from all around British Columbia and even other provinces who follow the rodeo have come to watch. It’s a night to get loud and dress up.
Sarah went all out this evening. She’s got on a short denim skirt with a big blingy belt buckle, pink cowboy boots with a matching hat, and of course, Sarah being Sarah, a white crop top that readssave a horse, ride a cowboyin a pink glittery font. I’m convinced she made it herself.
Wren and I chose to dress a little more casual. Wren’s wearing a pair of flared jeans, and like Sarah, a big belt buckle, though hers much less blingy. Her top is a casual tee with a bull head on it, tucked into her pants, and she’s of course wearing a pair of cowboy boots and a matching tan hat. She looks like a real cowgirl and fits in perfectly.
I’ve opted to go with a floral maxi dress under a denim vest and a pair of sneakers. No hat or boots for me, but I did let Sarah do my makeup, so I’m a little more dolled up than usual.
“Come on, girls, let’s go find me a cowboy.” Sarah slaps our asses and skips off to the stands, leaving us laughing and trailing behind her.
The stands are packed, and the smells of popcorn and animals fill the air. The crowd is dressed in their best Western wear, and even small children are wearing hats and boots. A rodeo clown is walking through the crowded stands handing out candy to the children and T-shirts to the adults. The whole town really goes all out for the rodeo and it’s always such a great night.
The first event this evening is the chucks, and as the horses begin to line up, we decide to make it a little more fun by making it a game of bets. Each of us chooses a group, and the losers have to drink.
My choice is a mother daughter duo with a group of all dark-brown horses. Their jackets and reins are a pretty purple, so it was an obvious choice for me. Sarah picks a group of black horses decked out in hot pink with two brothers in the wagon, and Wren’s bet is a husband and wife duo in bright orange with all white horses.
Sarah signals for the beer guy, and we crack open our drinks just as the gun goes off. We each shout and cheer on our bets.
“Come on! Come on! Go, go, go!”
“Come on, orange, you got this!”
“Ahh, go, pink, go!”
